


Custody Arrangement

by bluebeholder



Series: Rehabilitation Via Dryer Settings [3]
Category: Suicide Squad (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Domestic Bliss, F/M, Foreshadowing, Found Family, Friendship, Gen, My Precious Trash Heap Children, Team as Family, Unusual Definitions of Feminism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-22
Updated: 2017-02-22
Packaged: 2018-09-26 05:17:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9864569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluebeholder/pseuds/bluebeholder
Summary: After a long period of good behavior, Floyd is getting something special: a visit from Zoe. Harley couldn't be happier for him. Or...well, she'll pretend that she couldn't be happier.After all, his definition of normal can't possibly include her.Right?





	

Harley is, as always, a touch wary when Rick calls a meeting one evening. Things like this usually signal that shit’s about to hit the fan again, and at the moment Harley can’t quite convince herself to give a fuck. She’s a little bit busy enjoying the domesticity of their current life. It’s too nice for them to be bothered by other people’s problems. 

They meet on Rick’s yard, which is convenient since Waylon spent the whole day sunning himself on their porch taking notes on one of his new archaeology textbooks. He’s taking college courses now, working toward a degree through online courses. It took him some work, but he’d gotten his GED a couple months back and Harley couldn’t be prouder. 

Actually, she’s just damn proud of all of them. She never thought she’d see the day that anyone other than Chato would actually put some work into turning their lives around, but here it is. Waylon’s going to college, Chato’s a regular at church, Floyd’s getting to be a regular family man, Digger…is still Digger, nothing’s changed about him, actually. And Harley finds that she thinks of the Joker less and less frequently. She likes that. She prefers Floyd much more. 

“So,” Rick says, when they’re all assembled, “I have news.” He looks proud of himself, and Harley’s bad feeling slips away a bit.

“Don’t keep us in suspense,” Floyd says, raising his eyebrows. 

Rick nods. “Well, I’ve been talking to Waller,” he says. “About all of your good behavior, and the fact that all of you have put serious work into your own rehabilitation.”

Digger coughs pointedly.

“Except for Boomerang,” Rick amends, and Harley laughs. Wasn’t she just thinking that a moment ago?

“’snot news that we’re working on it,” Waylon rumbles. “That’s obvious. What’s the news?”

“It’s mostly news for Floyd, but I thought the rest of you should hear it anyway,” Rick says. He looks at Floyd. “I convinced Waller to let Zoe come here.”

For a second, Floyd just stares, and then he shakes his head in disbelief. “Fuck, man, maybe you can work miracles,” he says. 

Chato holds up a hand. “What’s the catch?” he asks warily. 

June, sitting on the porch with baby James in her arms, smiles. “Asking the smart questions, as always,” she says. 

“The catch is that you all need to stay on your good behavior,” Rick says. “Waller’ll let it happen, because the point of this whole thing is to rehabilitate all of you into people that the country can be proud of, but only if you prove that you can keep it up and it isn’t just an act.”

“I don’t think it’s an act,” Floyd mutters, glancing around at the rest of the squad. 

“I’m going to agree with Floyd,” Harley says. Hell, even Katana’s changing—when Harley looks at the woman, she’s actually not carrying around her sword. And she smiles obliquely when she meets Harley’s gaze. That’s just special. “We can keep this up, right guys?”

Waylon grins. “Right,” he says. 

“Sure,” Chato says. 

“You can count on me!” Digger says with a brilliant smile. Harley rolls her eyes at him and he frowns. “I may still be a crook, but Floyd’s my best mate. Not gonna screw this up for him.”

“Thanks, mate,” Floyd says in a bad Australian accent. “Means a lot coming from you.”

“So,” Rick says loudly, pulling them back on track, “if you can all keep this up for the rest of the week, Zoe will be here over the weekend.”

Harley bounces to her feet, smoothing out the 50’s-style circle skirt that makes her feel just like the housewife she’s always really wanted to be. “Don’t you worry,” she says, kissing Rick lightly on the cheek, “we’ll be on our best behavior.” He looks heavenward, but he doesn’t shove her away: he, like everyone else around here, has finally gotten used to casual affection being directed his way.

“Stepford’s got it,” Digger says. Harley glares at him—she really hates that nickname.

“Don’t call her that,” Floyd says, getting up and taking Harley’s hand. She leans into his side, appreciating again that she doesn’t feel like a trophy to be shown off when she’s with him. “And we won’t fuck this up, Flag.”

Rick smiles. “I know you won’t,” he says. 

***

The week speeds by faster than Harley expected it to. Floyd’s a nervous wreck for half of it—he won’t stop asking questions like “what if she’s scared of us?” “what if something bad happens while she’s here?” and, most heartbreaking of all, “what if she doesn’t want to see me?”

“She wants to see you, you fuckin’ moron,” Digger grumbles, obviously tired of all the panic around the impending visit. “You’re her dad.”

“I have a dad and I don’t want to see him,” Floyd points out.

“You know she’s proud of you,” Harley reassures him, when they’re out of Digger’s sarcastic earshot. “She keeps writing it in letters.”

Floyd sighs and rubs his face. “I just want her to see that I’m not a monster,” he says.

Harley hugs him. “Darlin’, of all of us, you’re the one that’s furthest from bein’ a monster,” she murmurs in his ear. She means it. And she thinks he hears it, because even though he doesn’t say anything he hugs her back for a long while.

In the end, despite Floyd’s nerves, they make it. Zoe will arrive on Friday night and stay through Sunday afternoon. Since Rick and June have more space than the squad, Zoe will stay with them. There’s also the unspoken part about not leaving a twelve-year-old girl in a house full of only-slightly-rehabilitated criminals. No one argues with it. 

Harley goes into a last-minute flurry of housecleaning on Friday morning, while Waylon takes the opportunity to make cookies for when Zoe gets here. Turns out that despite his general preference for carnivore-friendly foods, he’s quite the foodie. Harley stays out of the kitchen and lets him manage that, while Digger and Chato sit by and eat all the chocolate chips. She guesses that June is doing pretty much the same thing, over at the other house. 

Rick and Floyd have gone together to pick up Zoe. Harley really hopes that Zoe’s as excited to see her dad as Floyd is to see his daughter. She makes Digger put away most of his ceramic unicorns, or at least get them onto shelves, and thanks Chato for not leaving his shit all over the house. Oddly, even though she feels like she should be irritated about having to pick up all the mess, Harley glories in getting the chance to do something this utterly ordinary. By the time that the car with Rick and Floyd and Zoe pulls up, the house is spick-and-span and smells like fresh chocolate chip cookies. It’s perfect. Perfect and perfectly normal. 

All four of them practically plaster themselves to the window as the car parks by the curb. They’re supposed to wait until dinnertime, so that they can get Zoe settled at Rick and June’s house, and give Floyd and Zoe a chance to talk before overwhelming her with the other four squad members. But they’re curious, and no one said anything about windows, so they shuffle around until all four of them can get a good view. 

Rick gets out of the driver’s side and opens the far door, while Floyd gets out of the passenger side. He goes to the back and opens a trunk, taking out a nice purple suitcase, and then a girl who can only be Zoe comes around the car to stand by him. They talk for a moment, then Floyd bends down to hug her. She takes the handle of the suitcase and follows him up the sidewalk, holding his hand. 

“She looks just like her dad,” Waylon comments. “Same eyes, anyway.”

“About as cool as he is, too,” Chato says. He nods approvingly. 

Digger shrugs. “Cute kid, but I still don’t get the fuss.”

Harley doesn’t say anything. She watches the door close behind them thoughtfully, and imagines herself holding Floyd’s other hand. She imagines driving Zoe to school, packing her lunches, taking her to see movies, helping her with homework—and suddenly she realizes that she’s imagining being that little girl’s stepmother. 

She’s imagining being Floyd’s wife.

“Stepford? You okay?” Digger asks, waving his hand in front of Harley’s face. 

With a scowl, she bats his hand away. “I’m fine,” she snaps. 

Digger holds up his hands. “I was just worried,” he says, and he sounds genuine. 

But Harley isn’t in the mood to make nice. There’s something unsettled about her now, and somewhere in the last few months she’s lost the gift of hiding it and putting on a cheerful face. “I’m going to go for a bit,” she says. She walks out of the room, impossible dreams spinning around her.

“We’ll come get you when it’s time to go over,” Chato calls after her. 

Harley doesn’t acknowledge it. She’s too busy trying not to cry over things that even now she knows she can’t have.

***

By dinnertime, her face is firmly in place. She’s back to her bouncy, bubbly self, at least on the outside. It took a bit, but at least she managed it. 

Chato rings the doorbell and for half a second Harley feels so absurd that she almost bursts into laughter. But then June opens the door and invites them all in with a bright smile. They cross the threshold and there’s Floyd at the kitchen table, laughing over some story Zoe’s animatedly telling about her school while Rick holds James and watches. It stops feeling ridiculous and starts feeling normal again. 

Waylon takes James from Rick and the colonel doesn’t even argue, just looks to the heavens and smiles as Waylon starts cooing over the baby. Digger hops up and sits on the counter. Chato sidles into a corner, as far from the kids as he can get, and Harley really wants to give him a hug. She doesn’t get the chance because Floyd’s getting up from the table and holding out his hand. She takes it and lets herself be pulled over to sit down. 

“Zoe, this is Harley,” Floyd says. 

Harley smiles and sticks her hand out. “Nice to meetcha,” she says.

Zoe shakes her hand. Waylon was right, she really does have her father’s eyes. “Hi,” she says. 

“Pretty cool to actually meet you in person,” Harley says, resting her chin on her hands. “Your dad talks about you all the time.”

“He writes about you all the time,” Zoe says with a small smile. “He told me that you’re his girlfriend.”

Floyd falls rather still and Harley’s whole heart feels like it just flipped over. “I guess that’s what I am,” she says slowly, very carefully not looking at Floyd. 

Zoe looks between them and shakes her head. She doesn’t ask any questions, except, “Can I finish my story, Dad?” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Floyd says. “You wanna recap the beginning, catch Harley up a bit?”

The girl launches back into her story, and Harley barely hears any of it. Girlfriend? She thought she was just…she thought she wasn’t that. 

She must be too quiet, because Floyd’s hand finds hers under the table and squeezes for a second, reassuring. Yeah. Girlfriend. That’s normal. That’s good. Harley likes that word. 

It’s a shuffle, getting everyone at the table when it’s time to eat, and Harley very nearly ends up on Floyd’s lap. June and Rick are crushed together, Waylon’s bulk takes up enough space that he almost has a side of the table to himself, Chato seems like he’s taking up hardly any space at all, and for some reason Digger has more elbow room than seems fair. Katana, too, has a bit more space than everyone else. Luckily, there’s enough space on the table for pizza.

They let Chato say Grace, though most of them aren’t the churchgoing sort, and then tear into the food. Zoe gets introduced to each of the Squad in turn, and to Harley’s surprise she seems totally unfazed. “Dad talks about you guys all the time in letters,” she says casually, when Waylon asks. “I kinda expected it.”

“You ain’t seen nothing yet,” Digger says, and yelps as someone who definitely isn’t Harley kicks him under the table.

They’re mostly happy to listen to Zoe talk, describing her so-very-ordinary life to them all. She’s in highly advanced math classes, which, according to her, is because of Floyd. “I already know how to do a lot,” she says matter-of-factly. “Physics isn’t that hard. Neither is calculus.”

“Because I taught you ballistics when I really shouldn’t have,” Floyd says.

“I’m smarter than everyone else now,” Zoe says with a shrug. 

Rick groans, a bit theatrically. “Oh, great, another one,” he says. “Well, when we’re recruiting…”

Zoe’s eyes light up. “Could I work with you?” she asks, looking up at her dad. “I’m smart enough, when I’m older I could…”

Floyd glances around, looking for someone to rescue him. Harley steps in. “Darlin’, you don’t want to work with us,” she says. “It’s not a fun job. It’s dangerous, and it’s hard.”

Zoe looks around the kitchen, at Waylon and June going on and on about pyramids in South America, at Chato cracking wry jokes every five seconds, at Digger doodling on a paper napkin, at Rick smiling at his son in a high chair, at Floyd and Harley holding hands, and then looks back at Harley with a puzzled expression. “This seems pretty good,” she says. 

Harley doesn’t know how to respond to that, so she doesn’t. She lets Floyd steer the conversation back into safer waters. She follows, smiling just right, as they go into the living room and play one of Rick and June’s few board games. She even plays a game or two. 

But she can’t stop thinking about that conversation, and that night, in bed, she wonders if this is all a fever dream. How long can it last? How long before Waller has them thrown back in Belle Reve, before Digger tries to break out and gets shot, before…how long before it ends? 

***

Saturday is so quick that Harley feels like she barely blinks and it’s over. Floyd and Zoe spend the day outside. They swim—Waylon got the pool cleaned before she came—they play improbable games of catch, they climb trees. To Harley’s eyes, it looks like training, couched in play, but when she mutters something about it Chato gives her a hard look. 

“Don’t say that to Floyd,” he says. 

“What?” she asks, feeling strangely defensive.

Chato folds his arms. “He wouldn’t like to hear that he’s bringing that much work home with him,” he says. There’s a world of experience there, and Harley doesn’t pry. She’s read his file. She knows. 

And she doesn’t say anything to Floyd. 

Waylon makes lunch, grilled cheese and tomato soup, but he doesn’t stay to eat. “Taking care of James for the afternoon,” he says, when Digger asks. 

“Are Rick and June going on a date?” Harley asks. 

“Think so,” Waylon says. He shrugs as he goes out the door. “Doesn’t matter to me.”

Floyd and Zoe come in just as Waylon’s leaving. Zoe’s hair, carefully braided when she arrived, is a bit of a mess, and she’s clinging to her dad’s back and laughing. Floyd’s laughing too and Harley has to stop herself from doing anything embarrassing like bounding across the kitchen and kissing him right in front of everybody. 

Zoe seems a bit tired after lunch, and apparently she does have homework to do this weekend, so she settles down in the living room with Floyd to do it. Harley snags a book—one of the romance novels that has a less-than-steamy cover—and sits down on the couch next to Floyd, leaning into his side. It’s nice when he puts his arm over her shoulders. She feels warm and safe and happy. 

Through the book, she hears Zoe talking a blue streak about evolution and Darwin. It’s a nice callback to when Harley had taken biology courses, and honestly from the fluttery butterflies in her stomach she doesn’t feel much older than she was when she was a freshman. It’s obvious that Floyd understands about one word in ten that Zoe’s saying—she knows he only just finished high school, and the only subjects in which he’d ever excelled were math and physics—but he asks plenty of questions in all the right places. Zoe’s worksheet takes an hour longer to complete than it should, but when it’s done it’s done thoroughly. 

When they move on to math, which is apparently high-school level calculus, Floyd leans forward and pulls his arm away from Harley. She peeks over the top of the book to see the two of them, heads together over the textbook, as Floyd makes annotations all over the homework and explains concepts that fly right over Harley’s head because she’s never been good at math. It makes her happy, seeing him so passionate about something. 

Chato and Digger drift into the room as the late afternoon sunlight slips between the curtains and into the living room. They don’t interrupt Floyd and Zoe. Chato watches them from his normal seat in the corner, looking solemn and sad. Digger’s playing some game on his tablet, headphones in, ignoring all of them. It’s the most domestic thing she’s ever seen in her life. 

There’s footsteps in the hall and then Waylon comes in with baby James in his arms. “Hey,” Harley says to him. She gets up, setting her book aside, and takes the baby from him. James is sleeping, and like this he’s cute. Then again, Harley always thinks he’s cute.

“Hey,” Waylon says. “We’re going over to Rick and June’s for dinner.”

Harley cocks her head at him. “We are? Why?”

Waylon shrugs off his jacket and tosses it over the back of his beleaguered chair before sitting down. “I think June thinks she’s feeding an army,” he says. “You should see how much chili she made.”

She sits down on the arm of Waylon’s chair, bracing herself with one foot on the ground and her hip against his shoulder. “Well, to be fair, we’re basically an army,” she says. 

“Croc’s an army of one,” Digger says, looking up briefly from his tablet. 

“I bet I can eat more,” Zoe says, setting down her pencil. 

Waylon raises one heavy brow. “You’re on, kid,” he says with a smirk. 

Floyd shakes his head. “No way you can beat her,” he says to Waylon, turning a fond smile on his daughter. “This girl eats more than anyone I’ve ever seen.”

Zoe grins. “I once ate a whole rack of ribs,” she says, “and that was when I was only six.”

Waylon chuckles. “Well, it’ll at least be fair,” he says. 

“I bet you can beat him,” Harley says, smiling at Zoe.

Zoe smiles back. “Thanks, Harley,” she says. 

They do go to Rick and June’s for dinner, and Harley is floored by just how much food there is. The amount of chili is staggering, but apparently Waylon spent half the day baking cornbread because there’s about six pounds of the stuff. Dinner is much the same as the night before: rowdy and cheerful and, generally, everything you’d want out of a Saturday night with family. 

That night, they sit out for a while on the porch. Zoe will be leaving tomorrow morning, so Floyd is taking every chance to spend time with her. The others go in to give the pair some privacy, but when Harley tries to leave Floyd grabs her hand. He doesn’t say anything, but it makes her feel warm inside that he wants her to be around Zoe. Like she’s some kind of good influence, or at least not a bad one.

“…and so I’ve basically won all the prizes in the accelerated reading program,” Zoe concludes. “It isn’t hard. Middle school isn’t as bad as it looks on TV.”

“Well, that’s good,” Floyd says with a chuckle.

Harley snorts. “I remember it being terrible,” she says. “It’s good you’re having fun.”

Zoe kicks against the edge of the porch. “Most of the time, it is fun,” she says. 

“Hey!” Rick calls from the fence. “Lawton!”

Floyd looks up, and so does Harley. Rick sounds worried, but Harley can’t see his face. It’s fully dark, and the streetlights don’t come this far back. Floyd gets up and starts across the yard to Rick. “Be right back,” he says over his shoulder.

And then it’s just Harley and Zoe. They sit there for a second, listening to the crickets. Vaguely, Harley can hear the conversation between Rick and Floyd. It’s soft, but a few words are audible. “…sure he’s…” Floyd asks. “…need to prepare…” Rick says. It’s unsettling. Harley’s not sure what to make of it.

“You know, you’re really smart,” Harley finally says, breaking the quiet. She wants to not listen to whatever Rick and Floyd are talking about anymore.

“You think so?” Zoe glances up at her. “You’re a psychiatrist, right?”

Harley traces the hem of her skirt. “Yeah,” she says. “I was.”

Zoe purses her lips. “What’s it like, being a scientist?”

“Fun,” Harley says, after a moment’s thought. “Most of the time. You meet interesting, smart people, and you get to do interesting things. You wanna be a scientist?”

“I think so,” Zoe says. She picks at her fingernails. “It’s pretty fun, all the math and stuff.”

“Most of science is like that,” Harley says. “If you’ve got a good memory…”

Zoe tosses her hair. “I’ve got the best memory in my whole grade,” she says. “English isn’t my best subject, but I won the school spelling bee anyway.”

“Like I said,” Harley says, “you’re smart.” 

She smiles at Zoe, and Zoe smiles back. 

Floyd comes back and sits down on Zoe’s other side. “What’d I miss?” he asks. 

“Nothin’ much, darlin’,” Harley says with a wink at Zoe, who giggles and winks back. 

“…I missed something,” Floyd says. He shakes his head. “And apparently it’s time for you to head back to Rick and June’s, Zoe. Early morning tomorrow.”

Zoe sighs. “Do I have to go back?” she asks.

“Yeah,” Harley says. “Think of it like this. If you stayed here forever, it wouldn’t feel like a vacation anymore. Wouldn’t be fun.”

“Guess you’re right,” Zoe says. 

Harley preens. “I am sometimes,” she says. 

“Great, now you’ve inflated her ego,” Floyd mutters. “Never hear the end of it.” But he smiles, and touches Harley’s shoulder in passing as he and Zoe walk across the yard to hop the fence to Rick and June’s house. That’s how she knows everything is all right.

Harley waits for him, sitting in the silent darkness of night. He comes back the way he went, and sits down beside her. She pretends not to notice when he wipes his eyes, except to take his hand and hold it tight. For a few minutes, they just sit. 

“What did Rick want to talk to you about?” Harley asks at last, trying for casual. 

“Just—Zoe’s next visit, that’s all,” Floyd says. 

He doesn’t look at her when he says it. He’s lying. 

“When’s she coming back?” Harley asks, instead of pressing. 

“Month, maybe,” Floyd says. “Might be a mission for us soon.”

Harley nods, and thinks of the fishnets and booty shorts and stilettos in her closet. So much less comfortable than the circle skirts and flats she’s been wearing. “It’ll be good to get back out there,” she says. 

“She likes you,” Floyd says after another moment. 

“That’s good,” Harley replies. 

Floyd glances at her sideways. “You like her?”

“Yeah,” Harley says. “She’s a good kid.”

“Better than I was at her age,” Floyd says. 

Harley leans over. “That’s ’cause you’re a good dad,” she murmurs to him, and kisses him.

It takes a second, but then Floyd pulls her in and starts kissing her back. And for just a moment, for one shining moment, everything is perfect. She’s here with Floyd, and her whole family is safe, and things are happy and fine. This might just be a dryer setting, but it’s a good dryer setting. She likes it, and she wouldn’t give it up for the world.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, Digger’s ceramic unicorns are a shoutout to Tangled. Because if songfics were still a thing, I’d have already written the Squad singing “I’ve Got a Dream”. 
> 
> Fun fact: it is possible for a six-year-old girl to eat a rack of ribs. I know, because there are photos of me doing exactly that. I don't remember it, but my family won't let me forget it.
> 
> Here's the question: if you found the foreshadowing, what do you think comes next? :)


End file.
